Shot in the Dark
by Spyridon
Summary: AU: A former CIA field agent and a disavowed NSA agent begin a journey down a path filled with lies, betrayal, treason, and romance as both strive to prevent another national tragedy that could destroy their country. CH2 UP! A&W, Jake/Diane
1. Prologue

**Author:** Spyridon  
><strong>Title:<strong> Shot in the Dark  
><strong>Status:<strong> WIP Incomplete  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Auggie Anderson/Annie Walker, Jake Foley/Diane Hughes, Arthur Campbell/Joan Campbell, Jerry Foley/OC, Jai Wilcox/OC, OC/OC  
><strong>Additional Categories:<strong> Alternate Universe, Crossover,  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Action, Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance,  
><strong>SeasonEpisode/Book:** Post Series for _Jake 2.0_, Post Episode 02x05 for _Covert Affairs_  
><strong>Rating:<strong> Teen  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Language, Violence,  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> All of _Jake 2.0_ and up to episode 02x05 for _Covert Affairs_  
><strong>Full Summary:<strong> Two men, one a former CIA field agent turned Tech Op while the other a disavowed NSA agent, begin the journey down a path filled with lies, betrayal, treason, and romance while both strive to prevent another national tragedy that could destroy their country as well as themselves.  
><strong>SeriesSequels:** Pending  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong>I will be taking some creative liberties in a number of things but I will try to keep things realistic. Also, since I'm not military, I do not know what's really going on in regards to the military organization, requirements, and regulations. If you are military and are willing to shed some light on what you can, I will totally appreciate it. Same goes for those computer techies as well as foreign readers. I would like to keep the cultures of the representative foreign states that are mentioned within the story accurately.

This Story Summary will be updated periodically as needed. Reader discretion is advised.

**Last Updated:** September 1, 2011

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><p><strong><em><span>Chapter One: Prologue<span>_**

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><p><em>I've been left out alone like a damn criminal<br>I've been praying for help 'cause I can't take it all  
>I'm not done, it's not over<br>Now I'm fighting this war since the day of the fall  
>And I'm desperately holding on to it all<br>But I'm lost, I'm so damn lost_  
>~ '<em>Shot in the Dark<em>' by **Within Temptation**

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><p>~ <em>7:23am, May 4th, 2011: Location Unknown, Egypt<em>~

** "It has been confirmed." ** Abu-Malik Khabeer bin Muqeet al-Baqri stated, his dark eyes gazing out over the sands of Egypt, the moonlight casting darker shadows against his face. **"They will announce it within two days time."**

Abu-Mohammad Qahhār ibn Salēm al-Farooqi nodded, keeping his gaze on the stars above. **"May Allah take him into his embrace for the good he has done for our people. Are there any other news that I should be made aware of?" **

** "Already, a number have been fighting for Sheik Osama's position. There have been comrades who believe the position will fall to either Saif al-Adel who is the interim commander or Ayman al-Zawahiri. I believe al-Zawahiri will win the position as he was already the Deputy Operations Chief."**

**"What about the plans for attacking the Western infidels?"**

** "With the invasion and ultimate destruction of the compound, it is safe to say that any plans that we have sent to Osama has ultimately fallen into their hands." ** Khabeer spat on the ground, the features twisting into a shadowed mask of fury. **"Surely, they will increase their security which will prevent us from attacking them again for the foreseeable future."**

** "Do not think that. All security measures have a number of weaknesses. It's just a question of finding and exploiting it."** Qahhār stood silent for a few minutes, quietly thinking. **"Once the new leader is elected, I will speak with him to see about pushing our plans forward as well as expanding it. Osama bin Laden will be avenged. Such an injustice cannot be left unpunished."**

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><p>~ <em>9:01am, June 15, 2011: Location Unknown, Egypt<em>~

Men scattered as Qahhār stormed down the secret tunnel, his dark eyes burning with hate and fury. He had just finished speaking with Ayman al-Zawahiri about launching new attacks against the United States. Before the meeting, he had believed the new commander of the al-Qaeda forces would solidly back his plan in attacking the holy Western nation. What had happened instead had only served to anger him even further.

Ayman believed that it would wise to lie back down for the time being as the decentralized command structure re-stabilized itself after the devastating loss of such a leader and figure head as Osama. As for the actual plans to attack the United States, Ayman had emphasized to launch attacks against the United States with the same plans was foolhardy, especially since the infidels had a number of security details that would potentially lead to the capture before any permanent or long-lasting damage could be done.

Qahhār knew that security surrounding the tenth anniversary of the September 11th attacks would be increased to ensure the security of their people. He came to an abrupt stop as his men continued to work on around him, packing large cases of ammunition and guns into unmarked crates for transportation to a new base. The infidels were so sure in their knowledge of their Intel that they would fail to look for new threats.

Eyes narrowing, Qahhār vowed to strike at the wound again, to ensure the infidels would not forget.

He would make sure rivers of blood will run into the seas from the devil-infested land, the scar so deep, it would be forever seared into their memories.

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><p>~ <em>12:04pm, July 30th, 2011: West Cemetery, Great Pyramids of Giza, Egypt<em>~

The excavation site echoed with the sounds of workers digging in the sands, looking for ancient artifacts, the sun beating down with its heated rays. David Long stood up, feeling his bones crack due to the prolonged position he had been in while shoveling sand out of the pit. Swiping a sweaty hand over an equally sweaty bearded face, David allowed his dark eyes to wonder the site.

Among the Egyptian workers that steadfastly uncovered the new archaeological dig, he could easily point out the university students that labored right beside them. The undergraduates were doing most of the menial labor while the graduates worked on more important tasks of carefully cataloguing and removing potential artifacts from the grip of the sands. The tents on the edge of the excavation site flapped in the desert breeze coming off the Mediterranean Sea eighty miles north. Here and there, the wind picked up the loose sand, forming small twisters. The camels that brought in the supplies groaned as they clambered to their feet after delivering their loads.

When he was young, David had never believed that he would ever see the pyramids of Giza rising to the east of the excavation site, much less than a few hundred feet away, the bright harsh sun right above them. But then again, he had never once thought he would be on the run from US law enforcement, much less people he had once worked with. Sighing, David turned back to the work, ignoring the glare of the Egyptian supervisor overseeing his section.

It had been almost seven years since he had left the National Security Agency after escaping from Warner's henchmen, knowing from that moment on, he was a disavowed NSA agent, one with orders to kill on sight. Ever since then, he had been on the move, never staying in one place for long, especially in a country where the NSA could easily track his moves. He kept to third world countries, helping where he could in return for a place to stay, a little cash, and food. In every place, he made acquaintances but never really trusted them, knowing that one slip-up could lead to the NSA finding out where he was and forcefully dragging his dead carcass back to the U.S. for examination on a cold lab table for the $500 million dollars worth of technology that was quietly on hibernation mode in his body.

The half a billion dollars of nanite technology.

The little pieces of micro-sized computers that were about the size of normal human cells, each of them centered right on his central nervous system, waiting for him to activate them once more into action. The bits of hardware that had turned his life from a normal, geeky, awkward tech support into an accidental NSA Spec Ops agent and then into a federally wanted man. The nanites had turned his simple life into one of unexceptional struggle and strife, had ripped him from everything he had ever known and thrown him into a life of unknown situations with unknown enemies. All because of the one guy, the lead doctor of the project, decided to sell the nanite technology to foreign enemies of the United States. The massive download of the files on the program had caused the lab server to fail, forcing the Tech Support division of the NSA to send him and his supervisor to go repair it that fateful day. He angrily drove the shovel into the shifting rivers of sand in his pit.

When the hard life got to him and when he was in a mood, he had pondered the what-ifs. What if his friend Darin Metcalf had been sent instead of him? Would he had been shipped off somewhere in the world without ever knowing why? Would Darin have made it as a field agent? What if he had been the one killed instead of his supervisor? What if he had tried to fight back instead of sending the code black to the security desk? Would he have ever met Lou? Kyle? Would he have ever meet Diane?

Diane.

His thoughts turned back to the doctor, the woman he had meet right after the accident. He had been in shock from the shoot out and the ensuing infection, though they had not known it at the time. Diane with her dark curls, geeky glasses, wide smile, and articulate hands, had been sent to see if he was okay despite an NSA EMT working on sealing up the deep cut from the shard that had penetrated his forearm. She had definitely caught his attention on a subconscious level and by the time he had realized it, the time they had together wasn't enough.

Throughout the following hectic year after his infection, she had been there for him as a colleague, a doctor, a friend, and perhaps something more. . .

. . . Definitely something more.

Especially since that night when he had lost his memories, when he hadn't really had known who she was but could still feel the pull toward her enough that he had kissed her.

Despite the heat of the midday heat, David felt himself shiver in remembrance. He could still feel the silkiness of her arms against his, the softness of her breasts and stomach as he pressed down on her, the strength of her thighs as he rocked against her.

His thoughts were broken by the midday bell, signaling for lunch.

David stretched again, feeling the familiar cracks in his spine. He set his shovel against the pit carefully, knowing that laying his tools around would not put him in his supervisor's graces. He followed the other workers to the food tents on the outskirts of the excavation site, his nose twitching with the aromas coming from them.

"Hungry, yes?"

David turned around to see a friendly face behind him. "Kareem. I am hungry. I did not eat much this morning." He made space for the young man to join him in the food line. The younger man was in his early twenties with the common facial features seen in Egyptians. His dark hair was closely cropped, his beard and mustache neatly trimmed. His skin was bronzed to a dark caramel color. Kareem was shorter than Jake by about five inches but his bright, happy personality made up for it.

They had met last year when David had first joined the American Expedition team to dig out a new tomb that had been found in the West Cemetery near the Great Pyramids of Giza. With a little help from the nanites, he fooled the Supreme Council of Antiquities into thinking he was a qualified American with training in how to uncover archaeological artifacts from the ground. After surprising David with his accented English, Kareem had taken him under his wing, warning him about the tension between the SCA and foreigners and helping him carefully remove the tons of sand that covered the new tomb. Over the weeks of the excavation, an easy rapport grew between Kareem and David, almost to the point where David could call him friend.

Almost.

"Night terrors, my friend?" Kareem questioned in his thick Egyptian accent, tilting his head back to meet his much taller friend's eyes.

"How did you know?"

"You try to keep it from us but I know. Perhaps you join us tonight for a trip into the city? Tea could help with the night terrors." Kareem peered at David, his dark eyes searching. "Perhaps you will need something a little stronger?"

"No, I do not believe that Rashid will allow me to recover from a night with the bar. He does not like me and wishes me to leave the site so he can hire another Egyptian worker. I think he fears that I will take some priceless artifact with me when I leave."

Kareem laughed. "Rashid always believed that foreign workers would try to pillage from our ancient landmarks. You are no different from the foreign worker that found work as a laborer here." He leaned in closer. "Just do not let Rashid catch you when you do steal an artifact."

"Yeah, he might just call down the ancient gods to deal with me and have me devoured." David joked as he picked up a plate from the stacks at the beginning of the tent. He quickly made his way slowly to the first server who quickly poured a large spoonful of mashed fava beans onto his plate. The next server quickly handed him a thick, puffy loaf of eish masri. David took his large cup of rationed water and followed Kareem to a secluded spot from the other workers.

"What is it that visits you in your dreams?" Kareem asked as they made themselves comfortable on the rough-hewn bench.

David shrugged, using the eish masri to scoop some of the mashed fava beans. "Just memories of my life in the State," He silently chewed, thinking back to that day that had changed his life. "I didn't want to conform and so I had to leave. I left everything behind."

"Ah." David knew that would tug on Kareem's heartstrings as his own family had been targeted by the Egyptian Islamic Jihad when he had been younger and his family lived in Luxor. His father had been pressured to join along his two oldest brothers. All three had been killed when the base had been raided by the Egyptian military later, after the government received intelligence that led them to believe they were harboring nuclear weapons. In distress, his mother had moved them to Cairo to be close with her husband's remaining family. She had later remarried but the memories had never left them. Kareem and his remaining three brothers feared the day would come when the jihadists would lay pressure on them to join. Kareem had vowed he would die before joining the men that had caused his father's death. "I will take you to a bar in Cairo. Mohammed will cover for us."

"The last time your brother said he'll cover for us, I almost got fired."

"We bring him back something then." Kareem flashed a grin at his American friend.

David just shook his head and went back to eating, knowing that Rashid would force him to work when the next bell sounded, regardless if he finished or not.

* * *

><p>~ <em>8:17pm, July 30th, 2011: Giza, Egypt<em>~

"I thought we were going to a bar in Cairo, Kareem?" David asked as they ducked into the slightly rowdy bar. Just like any other bar in the world, the area was heavy with hazy fog of cigars and cigarettes.

"You are so worried about Rashid that I believed a bar closer to the site will calm your nerves." Kareem led David to a seat at the long counter, waving a bartender over. "Plus, it will be easier for us to go back to the sleeping tents. Two Sakara Gold's please." The two drinks appeared, cool and slick with frost on the outside.

"I like how you think." David smiled at the bartender, handing over the pay for the lagers. "I still can't get used to the fact on how calm bars here in Cairo are. By now, the bars in America would be loud, obscene, and uncontrollable by your standards."

"Alcohol is liked but is not the main drink."

"Tell me about it. I think I still prefer your version of coffee to tea even if it does create sludge at the bottom." David smiled as he took a sip of his drink, eyes going over the multitudes of Egyptians in the bar, a small number of them carrying alcoholic drinks, all of them talking about general topics and issues. He wasn't kidding about the night life in Cairo. Drunks in America were common at bars, taverns, and in the streets. He had hardly seen a drunken tourist that was even moderately tipsy. All in all, drinking in Egypt was a very calming experience in his hectic life.

Two hours passed with David drinking two more Sakara and Kareem switching to water after his second one.

Clapping a hand on Kareem's shoulder, David announced he would be back soon. Being a tall American, he made his way toward the bathroom stalls with curious looks thrown his way before the individual turned back to their conversations. He quickly did his business and washed his hands, humming an old 80's song under his breath. Just as he was about to leave, David heard two voices, both with Egyptian accents, talking furiously outside the door. He would have opened it to leave had he not heard a word that caught his attention.

It was inevitable that he learned some basic Egyptian Arabic during the two seasons he spent in Cairo, Egypt. In his first month here last year, Kareem had taught him basic Egyptian Arabic that a young Egyptian child would know, including ones that could be the indicators to very dangerous situations. Standing just inside the wood door, David heard a number of them in the fast and furious conversation between the two unknown men.

** ". . . . Can't go to the United States . . . . Amadullah is set to give birth . . . ." **

** ". . . . Weapons have been sent already . . . . Our leader wants to the plans to be carried out. . . . It is our time . . . . The infidels will bleed . . . ." **

David held his breath as the two men moved on, their footsteps fading away. His heart was beating fast in his chest, his mind on the verge of activating the nanites. His muscles tensed as his mind caught up with him. He was on the run from the NSA, a wanted criminal, for God's sakes.

But if what he heard was true, could they really be talking about possible plans to attack the US?

He closed his eyes, letting his head hit the stone wall behind him. The NSA may have labeled him a highly dangerous criminal and the nanites in him allowed him abilities that other men could never fully imagine but they never replaced the ideals that his parents had instilled in him from the moment of his birth. As he stood there, his father's words came back to him in his deep, caring voice that he associated with love and family; _every man, regardless of who they are, is guilty of all the good he didn't do in his life_. There was a risk of the NSA finding out where he was hiding and they would come after him, screw the diplomatic relationship between the US and Egypt. But the potential loss of life; it could be another September 11. Could he really have that on his conscience just to save his life?

The words he had uttered when sworn in as a NSA field agent came back to him.

_I, Jake Foley, having been appointed as an agent for the National Security Agency of the United States, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend against all enemies, foreign and domestic, of the Constitution of the United States . . . so help me God. _

Clenching his fists, he came to a decision. David opened the door and made his way to where Kareem was talking with another worker who quickly left after bidding both David and Kareem goodbye. "I have to go somewhere, friend. I will try to come back by early rise tomorrow."

Confusion spread over Kareem's face. "But Rashid-"

"I know, I know. But something came up, something from my past and I can't run from it this time." David said softly, letting his determination ring in his words.

"What are you going to do?" Kareem made as if to slide off the chair.

"No, you are much safer if you stay here. I can't let you get involved with this." David clasped a hand on his shoulder. "After everything you lost, I can't allow you to lose something even more precious. Just cover for me at the camp." He could still see the conflicted emotions on Kareem's face. "Please, Kareem. You must stay here."

"I do not like this."

"I did not ask if you did." David gave him a small smile as he dropped a few Egyptian pounds on the bar before slipping away into the crowds. As soon as he got a ways from the bar, David Long melted back into the recesses of his mind.

As he stepped out into the cooler night of Giza, Egypt, Jake Foley, a rogue NSA agent, stared out in the blackened night.

His mind reached out to the small computerized machines inside of him, the nanites flaring to life. From one breath to the next, he could feel every single sense suddenly become clearer than ever before. The nerves underneath his skin tingled lightly as if blood had been cut off and was suddenly restored. Despite the distance to the Nile River, he could hear the gently waves lapping along the shoreline line as the river wound its way north to the Mediterranean Sea. Even in the lights from the surrounding area in the dark night, he could see as if it was as bright as midday. His licked his lips and could pinpoint the exact spices that were being used in the homes near the bar.

He had missed his feeling.

During the year with the NSA as an agent, Jake had gotten used to the sharpened senses of the nanites, feeling more alive, freer than ever before. Psychologists would say that he was getting a superiority complex from the power the nanites gave him. Maybe it was true on some level but when running through a forest, it spoke to him on a baser level. For being highly advanced technology, it made him feel more connected with the nature around him than at any one point before the infection. It was an enigma but there it was.

When he had taken on the persona of David Long, he had toyed with the computer code inside the nanites to learn how to shut them off without killing him. Once the nanites had gone into hibernation, it felt like the world had been dulled, almost as if everything was dead. Or rather, as if he himself was dead and not his senses. For a long time afterward, he felt weak, exposed, vulnerable, lost. It was even longer before he reacquainted himself with being a normal human being again.

Grinning at the sensations flowing within him now, he called on the night vision, searching the road for the two men even his ears began to pick out the various voices around him. He blocked out the sounds of the men within the bar, the camel groaning nearby, the couple in their apartment next to the bar. He hoped he didn't lose them already. Just as he was about to leave to begin a search, his ears picked up the familiar voices.

** ". . . . The plans are in motion . . . . We will succeed and go down in history." **

Jake turned his head to the left side, eyes zeroing on the two Egyptian men walking along the path to the east. They were both wearing the traditional garb of Egyptian Muslims, the muted dark grey of their clothing helping them to blend in more with the shadows. Calling up on the NSA training, Jake reached up to the light cotton hood he had sewn to the collar of the shirt so he could shield his face from the sun and raised it to hide his face. Thankfully, his neatly trimmed beard, though not as thick as Kareem's, was grown out enough to mask the features of his lower face. Jake dropped behind the two men, mindful of keeping a good distance between him and the pair, hoping his makeshift cover. Thanks to the nanite hearing, he was able to hear every word the two men spoke, though he only was able to translate a few phrases.

Jake followed the two men through the streets of Giza even as he went over what Kyle had taught him in the brief time the older man was his mentor. When they got onto one of the ferry boats that crossed the river, he almost lost them but with some quick thinking, he was able to get on the boat as well by heaving himself over the side when no one was looking. While they stood in the back, Jake stuck to the starboard side, leaning on the rails of boat as it made its way across the river.

From the conversation, it seemed the man called Abd-al-Qadir was making excuses as to why he was not going with his older brother Mu'tasim to the United States despite saying earlier he would. At first, he told Mu'tasim that his family needed him, especially since his wife was due to give birth soon and the pregnancy so far had been filled with problems. A few minutes ago, Abd-al-Qadir was stating that his eldest daughter was arranged to be married soon to the son of a fellow terrorist who lived in Luxor. He could not afford to leave so he could oversee his daughter's marriage. Throughout the whole argument, Mu'tasim kept badgering as to why Abd-al-Qadir had suddenly gotten cold feet so close to the date to leave.

If Jake hadn't heard their earlier conversation in the bar, he would have thought they were talking about a business trip to the United States. Not once during their conversation did they ever directly state their attentions. Jake bit his lip. Maybe he hadn't translated the words correctly and jumped to conclusions? He had three Sakara Golds which were about 9 or 10% ABV and the nanites weren't on at the time to filter out the alcohol from his system like before.

By their own accord, his eyes drifted to the two men who were arguing, a sense of foolishness beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach.

But damn it, his intuition was clamoring at him to follow these men. He would follow them to their destination and if he didn't hear anything more of terrorist-related plans by sunrise, he would forget about this incident. Resolve hardening, Jake brought his eyes back on the dark waters of the Nile River.

The ferry docked on the far bank, the people quickly disembarked and going their separate ways. The two men made their way down a number of roads and alley ways, still arguing. After twenty minutes of leaving the ferry behind, Jake felt relieved that he wasn't being paranoid when Abd-al-Qadir finally admitted in a low but furious whisper that he didn't like how their leader was planning to do something so soon against the United States, especially on such a scale as what was being planned. It was too bold, too complicated, too soon. Mu'tasim snorted in the darkness, explaining to Abd-al-Qadir that they had gotten this far without being noticed by the infidels. It would only be a few weeks until the Western nation would bleed red into the oceans.

Jake froze.

Weeks? It was almost August already. The tenth anniversary of September 11th was only a month and a half away.

Jake must have made a suspicious sound as one of the men turned around, his eyes searching. Jake allowed himself to sink into the shadows of one of the buildings, hoping that the brightness of his clothing would not give him away. After a few seconds of looking, the man turned back and continued on as if he hadn't stopped. Jake let out a silent sigh of relief. If he was going to do this to find out what these men were up to, he would need darker clothing to blend in. The slightly off-white color of his cotton shirt and pants stuck out in the street, even if they were the normal garb for the summer in Egypt.

The men walked a few more blocks before heading toward an old building with weathered stonework. It seemed to be busy even despite the late hour. People were coming in and out, some carrying crates while others seemed to be carrying different styles of bags. Jake took up a position against the side of the building just down the street and across, further examining the activity of the front entrance and the surrounding area. The streets were nearly deserted except for the stragglers now and then, the occasional tourist group walking past, heading to a new bar. While being mindful of his surroundings, Jake amped up his hearing.

He could hear the multitude of men moving around the building, metal clashing against metal, against heavy wood, boots hitting the ground, scrapes as things were moved around. Mutterings, whispers, heated commands, whispered questions, echoed in his mind. It definitely was no business as what legal shop would see fully automatic Kalashnikovs?

By some quirk of fate, he had stumbled upon a terrorist cell in the process of moving bases.

Jake slipped back into the shadows of the building, quickly categorizing what he had. As a rogue NSA agent, he didn't carry much in the terms of electronics. A rebuilt laptop, his fake passport and identification, some cash in Egyptian pounds and a couple of regional currencies as well as American dollars, a few knick-knacks he couldn't let go off, a few changes of clothing, a small first aid kit, and a few survival items. Definitely nothing like the gadgets he had when a legal field agent. What he would give for some listening devices and GPS tracking devices. Without backup and the technology that came with being an American spy, he was severely limited in what he could do to make sure the terrorist group didn't disappear into the Egyptian night. Jake needed to get some intelligence on where they were headed and what they planned to do. He had only one plausible action.

To break into the building and search for any documents, laptops, USB drive, flash-drive, cell phone, anything that could hold information as well as identify the individuals associated with this ring.

He waited for a lull in activity before making his way to the side of the building, his hearing to the sounds headed his way. Just as he got to the north side of the building, his ears picked up someone coming from the front entrance. Almost immediately, his adrenaline kicked in, his body kicking into high gear. Jake crouched before launching himself straight up five feet, his fingers grasping the rungs of the ladder on the side of the building. To his surprise, the metal didn't make any noise as he quickly climbed up to the second floor landing. Below, a man carrying another crate walked past, right where Jake had been. The man disappeared down the street.

Jake waited another minute to make sure the man didn't return before glancing into the windows on the floor. He saw nothing of importance to him, the room looking like a storage closet than quarters. He made his way up to the third story. The moment his head cleared the window sill of the first window on the right, he quickly spotted a laptop on a simple desk. Leaning against the rough stone of the walls, he used his nanites to turn on the computer after making sure no one was in the room.

The laptop screen came alive, the screen dark except for the little area at the bottom signaling the process of the start up. A little under a minute later, the screen turned blue as it came to the home screen, the security login just below the center asking for a password. Keeping an ear out for any sound, Jake linked with the laptop, a command prompt appearing in the top right hand corner, code after code running in white letters against a black screen. Seconds passed before the computer dinged, the blue screen disappearing as it faded to the desktop.

Jake grinned.

He still had it.

The hard drive hummed almost silently, the sound only caught by Jake's ears as he delved into the recesses of the computer, searching for anything. He almost snorted with disbelief when he found the program for Angry Birds on there. The seconds kept on ticking by, the potential of being discovered increasing exponentially with every second he sat on the landing out in the open. Opening a file hidden in the data recovery drive, Jake almost cried out in relief.

It was a list of weapons, weapons made from plastic and metal alike, containing the number of pounds of explosives and types of detonators. As he read over the information in his mind's eye, something pulled at Jake's instincts. Something was missing. It was almost five minutes of Jake reading the report to find out what it was.

Locations.

There was nothing on the file about where the weapons were being sent if they were. Even where they came from was empty.

Could the weapons be in the crates? He had heard metal being pushed around in the beginning of his impromptu stakeout. If so, the NSA needed to know about this. Jake slammed his head against the wall, grimacing as the nerves registered the pain flooding his brain. He had temporarily forgotten about the super-strength.

Despite the fact that the nanites were small computers, they did not have enough space to store the amount of data in the laptop which meant he had to figure out a way to copy it before leaving tonight. Jake glanced around the room again, the nanites enhancing the resolution he could see in. The room was immaculate, everything neatly placed. He just needed something to store the information in. His eyes came down upon what looked like a CD case.

Allowing himself to smile, Jake pressed his hands against the window, testing it. It wouldn't budge.

"Just my luck." Jake muttered to himself. He studied the window frame. There was a lock on the window but it was open. The window was stuck. Huffing, Jake tried once more to open the window but it again did not budge. Blowing air out of his mouth in an angry huff, Jake ran his hands along the sides. Seeing nothing that was jamming it from the outside, Jake knew it was probably the amount of grime caught in the track. He began applying more and more force in increments until the window jerked up a bit. Repositioning his hands to the small open space, he forced the window open bit by bit. The moment there was enough space, he entered the room, thanking his parents for his lean build.

The floorboards creaked as his weight pressed down on the aging wood. Despite the ladder being taken care of, it seemed the floors inside the apartment were neglected. Jake quietly made his way to the CD cases on the bookshelves. The front covered was printed with Arabic words that Jake had no clue as to what they said. Opening one, he took out the silver CD and made his way to the laptop. Popping open the drive, Jake went to work.

He carefully deleted the track list of songs on it, erasing it clean. The drive whirred quietly as the computer began to copy the list of weapons as well as any other pertinent information he found. A board creaked outside the door causing Jake's muscles to freeze for a moment. Adrenaline rushed into his system as the nanite activity rose, kicking his senses into overdrive. His ears picked up the sounds of blood being pumped into the heart and body of the man, the sound getting clearer with every loud footstep. He bolted from desk, ducking behind the desk as his nanites reached out to the computer to shut the screen down.

The door opened.

Muscles tensing, Jake tilted his head against the side of the desk, preparing his mind for a mind. A second later, the door closed with a thump, the footfalls making their way up to the fourth floor. Breathing out heavily, Jake checked the progress of the download. He sat there as the last few megabytes were copied onto the disk. He popped the drive open and closed down the computer, deleting any trace that he had been there.

When the man came down the stairs ten minutes later with his comrade, Jake was gone.

* * *

><p>~ <em>2:31am, July 31th, 2011: West Cemetery, Great Pyramids of Giza, Egypt<em>~

"Where have you been?" Kareem asked as Jake walked toward the camp, melting out from the shadows. Since his nanites were still active, Jake had heard his progress from his post near the camp entrance.

"Around." Jake breathed into the night, allowing his body to slow down after the adrenaline rush of tailing someone. With a quick thought, the nanites went back into hibernation mode, his senses dulling once more. Jake shivered. "I had to go see to something."

"Is it over?" They made their way to their on-site sleeping accommodations.

Jake froze for a bit before entering the tent. "I do not know. Most likely, I will have to be leaving soon."

"Has your government found you?"

This time, Jake whipped around to see an expression that he had never seen before on Kareem's face. "What do you mean?"

Kareem's head tilted to the side. "I am an underpaid Egyptian worker, David, but I am not stupid. You have told me that you are a travelling American who was forced from his home a long time ago and you thought it best that you took some time to travel to regain your thoughts and priorities. While I do believe you are not truly lying about the former, I believe there is more to the story than you let on." Kareem went to where his sleeping cot was and rummage around underneath, moving his things around. He pulled out a coffee tin and walked over to where Jake was sitting.

"I fear that whatever you did tonight will make you leave us soon. I had a feeling this would happen sooner or later as you are a good man who still hears the call of duty, David Long. You will need this for your journey." Jake took the tin and opened it. His eyes widened at the amount of cash inside, in American dollars and Egyptian pounds as well as a small trinket on a silver chain.

"I can't take this. You need it more than I." Jake knew that unemployment in Egypt was high and that families struggled to make ends meet. This amount of money meant that Kareem was taking this out of the family's pay book as well as making it harder for them to live their daily lives. Something that Jake couldn't bear.

"You must take it. I will not take it back." Kareem's jaw tightened slightly, a signal that he would not be moved on this. Jake had seen this many times over the time he had known the young Egyptian man.

Jake looked at the cash inside the tin. Sighing, he closed it, snapping the lid shut. "I will find you again after I leave, Kareem, and I will pay you back."

"Just do whatever you have to do, David, for something tells me that whatever it is, it will be important for things yet to come." Kareem softly said. "Just remember you will always have a friend here in Egypt and many more if you will always wear that chain within our borders." The younger man blew out the candle and went to bed, leaving Jake to ponder what he had just heard in the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Notes:<strong> _Sakara Gold_ is a type of alcoholic drink made by the Heineken Brewing Company if my research is on the mark. Turns out that Egypt doesn't have much emphasis on drinking alcohols as much as we do in the US but they do socialize over drinks. The _Egyptian Islamic Jihad_ group is really a part of al-Qaeda which is a decentralized terrorist group. _Ayman al-Zawahiri_ and _Saif al-Adel_ are real, documented terrorists (the rest of the terrorists will be my own creation). _Fava beans_ and _Eish Masri_ are part of the Egyptian diet. **  
><strong>


	2. Into the Fight, We Could Not See

**Spyridon:** Sign-ups for Operation Alpha Maiden has been opened and is set to close on September 8th, 2011. The direct link to the Sign-Up Post has been added to my profile so check the link there but you might have to give the site time to update it as it takes a while to appear. Anybody who has an active profile here or on LiveJournal can join. We hope to see you there. It would be nice to flood the fandom a bit more. :D

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>Chapter Two: Into the Fight, We Could Not See<span>_**

* * *

><p><em>Why was I one of the chosen ones?<br>Into the fight I could not see  
>The magic and the strength of my power<br>It was beyond my wildest dreams_  
>~ '<em>Dark Wings<em>' by **Within Temptation**

* * *

><p>~ <em>7:04 am, July 31, 2011: George H.W. Bush Center for Central Intelligence, Langley, Virginia, USA <em>~

"So, Ms. Walker, how was the trip to Florence, Italy?" August Anderson asked into his phone the moment his close friend and fellow operative answered hers. Being the Head of Technical Operations department within the Domestic Protection Division at the Central Intelligence Agency usually had him spending the night at Langley and this past weekend had been no different with his favorite operative out in the field. "I hear that some of the accountants on the appropriations committee are gawking over the money spent that last couple of days." He leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms behind his head, a smile on his face. He had overheard a couple of them complaining to Joan about the receipts they were receiving. The following dress down had circulated the bullpen for hours.

"Well, I'm sure they would rather I didn't blow apart my cover. A few extra pieces of jewelry shouldn't be too much of a price for that. I'm sure they'll find use for anyway when someone needs to dress up like some rich call girl, don't you think?" Annie Walker answered cheekily into her encrypted phone. "I'm about to get my bag so I should be arriving back at Langley within the hour, barring any more delays hopefully."

"Knowing you, Annie, you'll probably find some Venezuelan drug dealer hosting a nuclear bomb in their van, drinking at some out-of-the-way café which would naturally lead to a car chase worthy of a Hollywood movie, catch them, and bring them in; all before dinner, of course." Auggie smiled as he heard an unlady-like snort coming from his earpiece. Before he could reply, he heard the tell-tale sound of someone he knew well approaching despite his ears being covered. Pulling off one side of his earphones so he could keep track of Annie with the other, Auggie tilted his head toward his boss. "Joan, I thought today you wouldn't be in today. It is Sunday, after all."

"I wouldn't have been but something came up with Agent Howard in South Africa early in the morning. It seems to be handled now but since I was here, I thought I would check in on you and Annie since I know she was due back today from Florence."

"Mission accomplished though the Company seems to be a few grand poorer. Annie's at Washington-Dulles with the package and waiting on her luggage. She should be here by 8, 8:30 at the most. You want to debrief her when she comes in?"

"Yes as it looks like there might be another mission for her out in Paris again but we still have to see the chatter on that." Joan laid a hand briefly on Auggie's shoulder before leaving, sliding the door shut behind her.

"I'm not even back at Langley and they already want me on another mission?" Annie had overhead everything Joan had said and seemed to be slightly irritated by the news. "You do know that my cover as a Smithsonian worker is slowly becoming thinner with every mission that I have to lie to cover it up. I think my sister is starting to be suspicious on how an acquisitions worker can be sent so much out of the country. That and Katia wants you to be the tour guide when her class goes to the Smithsonian this coming year." Annie added the last sentence on as a last thought.

Auggie groaned, remembering the time that he had been the tour guide for the oldest one of Annie's nieces. "As I told you before, you do reserve the right to say no to these things. Nowhere does it say in the manual that you have to say yes."

"Well, Katia has been telling her classmates that Chloe says you're better than Ben Stiller and naturally, those kids want proof."

"I was wrong about you. You're definitely not a masochist. You're a sadist. You are going to leave me at the mercy of thirty kids, all between the ages of seven and nine."

"Those kids in Chloe's class loved you. Along with my sister, I might add." When Annie had returned from the trip that had taken her out of the country, she had listened to her sister gush over meeting one of her younger sister's coworkers . . . . who just so happened to be intelligent, funny, and charming. It didn't matter to Danielle that he was blind. Having her sister overlook Auggie's disability made Annie feel proud of her sister as not many people would have easily taken it in stride. She was only annoyed that her sister thought she should hook it up with her best friend.

"It does not get rid of the fact that you're willing to torture me with caring for another class of demons, Annie."

"Can't handle a second grade class, soldier boy? I thought you were Special Forces and CIA trained on top of that?"

"That was not in my job description then and now."

"It looks like the bags are coming. See you in a few."

"Sadist." Auggie muttered good-naturedly, smiling as he heard Annie's laugh.

"Love you too." Chuckling, Auggie hit the end button on the phone keypad, spinning around to face the computer so he could begin his final report on Annie's latest mission.

* * *

><p>~ <em>8:43 am, July 31, 2011: George H.W. Bush Center for Central Intelligence, Langley, Virginia, USA ~<em>

Joan continued to read the final paragraphs of the budget report when a knock sounded at her office door even as it opened, admitting both Annie and Auggie into her domain. "Another successful mission?" Closing the file on her desk, Joan looked up, her eyes tracking the two operatives as they entered her personal domain.

Annie placed her friend's hand on one of the chairs and took the other. Handing over the manila folder that contained the information, Annie launched into her debriefing. "Claude Moreau is willing to be an asset in Paris for the fashion company employing him. The company has reaches into almost every global market as well as into the black market of weaponry, chemical and biological as well as the typical physical armaments. He said that there will be a space open for an intern in one of the departments and he has a little leeway into the hiring process. If we can get one of our operatives in by then, he can guarantee she or he will be hired."

"Has he requested anything?" Joan asked, flipping through the pages of information Annie had gathered on her week-long mission.

"At this point, only one as he did mention that if he is uncovered that his family be taken to the United States to be taken care of." Auggie replied, handing over a complete print out on the man's family. "He does have wife, two kids, his father and an older sister who has no family of her own. They could potentially become targets as they are very close to one another from what I can gather."

"Do they live in the same general area?"

Auggie heaved a sigh of frustration. "No, they are spread out across France. The father is retired in Nice while the sister is working as a teacher in Lyon. His immediate family could be flown out quickly but his father and sister will be delayed while our agents find them. We would have to have agents living close by just in case the operation goes whisky tango."

Annie shifted in her seat, glancing at Joan. "Do you really think the runners behind the fashion company can move that quickly?"

"When one has the power and the money to back up their claims, anything is possible, especially if their under-the-table dealings bring in a nice amount of cash. They'll do anything to keep it running and will make an example of anyone they think is snitching on them."

"Who knew fashion could be so lethal?" Auggie murmured, nudging Annie's kitten heels with his foot.

"Oh, har, har."

"That's good work, Annie. I'm sure once our chosen operative is set, we'll quickly find out how weapons from the former Soviet Union are being channeled elsewhere across the world. Those Kalashnikovs and rocket propelled grenades can do a lot of damage in the right hands. We don't even have to talk about the damage a chemical or biological terrorist attack could be. We don't need to lose any more soldiers to guerrilla and terrorist forces." Joan closed the file, folding her hands on top of it and looking at the two agents in her office. "Now, since you've just flown in from Florence on a back to back mission, I'm giving you Monday and Tuesday off. I don't want to see or hear from you until Wednesday."

"Thanks, Joan." Annie said, brushing her hand against Auggie's as they stood up. Just as they reached the door, Joan's voice rang out again.

"And that goes for you too, Auggie. I know you've been sleeping here at Langley while Annie was out on her mission. Ah!" Her sharp word cut off Auggie's reply before he could open his mouth fully. "I'll have Stu and Barber work on the files that need our attention but I won't see you until Wednesday as well. Is that understood?"

His shoulders slumping a bit, Auggie sighed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Joan turned back to the folders on her desk as the door to her office closed with a snap.

"I hate it when she does that." Auggie complained as Annie led him out of the DPD after shutting down his computer and putting classified folders back into his drawers.

"You mean when she's able to get you to do something she wants you to do or the fact that she has the ability to kick you out for a few days?"

"At the moment, the latter more than the former." Auggie sighed, letting his mind wonder for a moment.

Annie was about to say something when she caught sight of the expression on his face. "Auggie, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just imagine I'll be able to catch up on the sleep I lost while waiting on you. I do hate the time difference between Langley and other cities, especially if they are exactly on the other side of world."

"Don't complain until you have to sit in a seat with a chatty old grandma on one end and a whiny business man on the other. I have never had the urge to shoot someone before on a plane. I almost blew my cover right there."

"As I said before, if you want to switch, all you have to do is tell me and I'll jump on the next plane."

"I don't think Joan would forgive me for that. I do plan on keeping my job, Auggie."

"Ah, damn."

* * *

><p>~ <em>12:40 pm, July 31, 2011: National Security Agency, Fort Meade, Maryland, USA<em> ~

"How is Operation Prometheus?" Director Louise Beckett asked Tech Agent Susan Carver who was typing away steadily on her keyboard. The NSA had been working on setting up an intelligence station in Turbo, Columbia whose sole purpose would be to monitor communication in and around the city. The operation, dubbed after the Greek Titan who had bought the knowledge of fire to mankind, was a partnership between the NSA and the Drug Enforcement Agency to monitor the trafficking of drugs, money, and weapons between Columbia and Mexico. Agent Enrique Martinez had been undercover for six months to keep an eye on their agents setting up the station as well as providing ground intelligence on the movement of well-known, local drug dealers. He was also there to ensure that the intelligence coming from the station was accurate as any wrong reports could lead to accusations between the US and the foreign countries, most notably the United States' southern neighbor. With the current political climate between the United States and Mexico, especially on the issue of immigration, the NSA had to be careful in how they handled the situation lest the President of Mexico, Felipe Calderόn, believed they were accusing the foreign country of looking the other way.

"Moving forward smoothly, Director Beckett. Agent Martinez expects to be back in the States by tomorrow with the latest intelligence on the movement within Columbia."

"Good. Inform him that I will have a bottle of his favorite single malt whisky on his desk when he comes home when he arrives." Lou allowed a small smile on her lips, thanking God that another mission was close to coming to a safe conclusion without her agents coming to harm. The drug dealers were very paranoid when it came to their home turf and foreigners were nearby, which lead to trigger happy shootouts.

"His plane is scheduled to leave the airport in Columbia and will land at Baltimore-Washington International. Expected arriv – What the HELL?" Carver leaned forward at her station, eyes speeding over the information the computer was presenting to her. "I'm bringing it up on the main screen, ma'am." Lou walked up to Carver, her eyes flicking toward the screen that dominated the wall above the bullpen area of the Echelon Division in the NSA. "Our firewalls are being breached by an outside source."

"Begin tracing programs. Tell me who it is, what they are after, and where they are." Lou ordered, slightly worried. The last time a person had tried to hack into the NSA, it had brought the system down. But she knew that same threat had been eliminated more than six years ago as the hacker had been brought in and was securely locked away in a small concrete block in the basement. Inhumane by Constitutional standards but he had proven himself to be a national threat that could not be easily contained.

The only question now was who was hacking their systems at the present time.

"It's – It's a smooth hack." Agent Carver looked up from her station, catching Lou's gaze. "It's Foley."

* * *

><p>~ <em>6:45 pm, July 31st, 2011: Cairo, Egypt<em> ~

Jake's eyes barely twitched when his nanites felt someone trying to trace him back through his wireless connection. A small smile graced his lips. He should have known that after six years the tech agents at the NSA would have gotten better, especially at identifying the signature of his hacking techniques. They probably devised a program to search, analyze, and trace any hack that resembled his on any level. He knew he would have if someone with his range of technological skills at his disposal was on the run and could potentially attack the computer systems at the NSA.

Even as his borrowed laptop began to download the information into the NSA database, he began to systematically lead the agent following him to another location close by. Jake could have sent them to another city but time was of the essence. They might send someone to the location where they believed he was hacking, to try and bring him in but Jake could not risk them sending that agent out when they would need all available resources on figuring out the threat to the US.

He only hoped it didn't bite him in the ass.

* * *

><p>~ <em>12:46 pm, July 31st, 2011:<em> _National Security Agency, Fort Meade, Maryland, USA _~

Lou's mask cracked for a second, eyes widening before her face composed itself back into its cool expression. "Are you sure it's Foley?" She wanted to congratulate herself on keeping her voice unemotional even though the news struck a deep cord within her chest.

When she had initially met Jake after the lab incident so long ago, Lou had to admit that she didn't like him at first. To her, he seemed too fidgety, too naïve, too _innocent_. Someone who wouldn't last very long in the field under the pressure and stress of the constant high expectations the NSA had of their agents. From his file, she thought it was a good idea to keep him in Tech Support, away from trouble and danger.

Then, the incident happened and suddenly she was overseeing the Special Ops team centered on a nanite-enhanced, untrained agent. Frustration levels were high during the first few weeks as Lou believed that Jake would never shape up into an agent that would allow him some form of life instead of being stuck in a lab for the rest of his unnatural life. Something she knew was felt by her second in command, Agent Kyle Duarte, Jake's mentor and friend. Over time, Lou found herself being drawn to the happy, go-lucky agent that always strived to do the right thing even when the road was pebbled with obstacles and enemies, most notably Kevin 'DuMont' Flynn, Foley's archrival, and Valerie Warner, Executive Director of the NSA. At the end of the first year, Lou had been getting to the point where she was trying to get Jake to understand the precarious position he was putting her in as well as his own position in the NSA with every hare-brained stunt he did.

Then he had gone rogue.

Even to this day, Lou wasn't sure if she really believed in the story Warner had recited as the NSA officially declared Jake a disavowed agent. She hadn't risen to the rank of Director of the Echelon Division without questioning other people's motives and Warner was the type of women that had to be taken with a grain of salt.

"Yes, ma'am. The Guardian Program has done a full analysis on his hack and confirmed it. It looks like he's actually downloading something into our databases. It's not a virus or a spyware program. At least, not one our programs know." Agent Hart answered from his station next to Carver's, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "It looks like intelligence from the Middle East." Surprise colored his tone as he continued to examine the incoming files.

"Intelligence from the Middle East? Are there any operations we are overseeing over there? I wonder where he got that from and how." Lou went over to Hart as Susan turned back to tracing Foley to his location. "Get Agent Duarte down here now." Lou didn't even turn to make sure that someone had followed her orders but she did hear the confirmation of footsteps hurrying away.

"Preliminary scans confirm that the writing is in Arabic, most likely Egyptian. There are also photographic files." Hart announced, keeping his boss updated.

"There are no operations currently active in the Middle East. We did have one over eleven months ago but we handed that one over to the CIA for Operation Goliath." Another agent announced.

"Lou? Agent Giovanni told me that someone is hacking into our system." Agent Kyle Duarte stated as he walked into the bullpen briskly, eyes glancing briefly at the screen. "Are they trying to hack into our files?" Kyle looked over Lou's shoulder.

"They already did."

"What info-"

"They are not looking for information. Rather, they are giving us information." Lou leaned back slightly. "It's Jake."

Any other person who didn't know Kyle well would not have noticed the creases at the corner of his eyes, the only signal that he was worried. "Doesn't he know that we're still looking for him?"

"I'm sure he knows that but whatever this information is, it's worth risking him downloading this information to us. It seems to be in Egyptian Arabic." Pictures began appearing, snapshots of dark haired men flashing across the screen. "Bring one photograph up."

Agent Hart rushed to comply with the order. "Coming up on screen."

Lou and Kyle walked closer to the screen, both of them studying the snapshot in detail. "The photograph looks like it could have been taken anywhere in the Middle East." Kyle muttered, keeping his grin inside though his boss knew him well enough to know what he was doing. Lou had the same thought; looks like Jake was not willing to hand out his location until he wanted to. Just like any agent would have done if they were in the same position.

"I'm losing the connection." Agent Hart suddenly shouted, his fingers frantically trying to keep up.

* * *

><p>~ <em>6:56 pm, July 31st, 2011: Cairo, Egypt<em> ~

Jake closed the connection slowly, knowing that the action would frustrate his former colleagues to no end and with a final press of a button, ended it. Popping out the CD, he carefully placed it back into its case and slipped it into a zip-lock bag to keep out the sand. He allowed himself to play an internet game for a few minutes before logging out, making sure to clean the computer of his traces. Even though the internet café was one of many in Cairo, he could not risk the chance that the NSA might stumble upon it, though the clue he gave them to his location was somewhat general.

Knowing Warner, though, she would probably send a battalion of agents after him just to bring him down.

Shaking his head, Jake stepped out into the dying sunlight. It was the last day before Ramadan, which would bring change to the business in Egypt. The populace would face from sunrise to sundown, business and local activity slowing down due to the lack of calorie intake. Though he was a foreigner, he knew that if he should eat, it would have to be somewhere out of sight as to respect those who were following in their religion.

On the negative side, he would have to be careful not to bring attention to himself with the use of his nanites. It would be a very fine line, especially with the local populace not moving around as before. One wrong move and he could blow his cover.

On a positive note, his targets would also be fasting hopefully, forcing them to be slow in their movements as well.

Breathing out slowly, Jake turned toward the river, deciding to wait until it was darker to go back to the terrorist base.

* * *

><p>~ <em>12:57 pm, July 31st, 2011: National Security Agency, Fort Meade, Maryland, USA<em> ~

"Damn!" Carver slammed her fists onto her station, frustration lining her face.

"I'm guessing you didn't get him." Kyle's words were more of a statement than a question.

"Even before the nanite infection, his skills were impressive. The farthest I got was tracing him to Cairo, Egypt. After that, he kept bouncing me around different computers and locations within the city limits."

"What about the information he gave us?" Lou asked Agent Hart who had been studying the information Jake had downloaded. "Run the identification process on the photos we received. Also send a copy to the language department. I want a full translation of those files on my desk by tomorrow morning. Have them spend the night if they have to. I want to know every little detail about what Foley gave us." The agents in the bullpen rushed to comply, keyboards clacking in beat.

"It seems to be a list of something, possibly weapons. There are a lot of information as well as brief profiles of the pictures he also gave us. The one thing about the pictures is that it seems to have been taken at night." Hart brought up a picture of a man in his middle to late twenties, wearing what looked to be a grey robe, glaring at another man with similar features and clothing.

"Brothers, perhaps, maybe even cousins." Kyle muttered, studying the dark picture. "Let me go to Egypt and track down Jake. You can have other agents analyzing whatever information he gave us."

Lou sighed as she pivoted on her foot and headed to her office, knowing they needed to have a talk now. Kyle didn't even wait until he had securely locked the door. "You know if any other agent goes there, Jake will disappear back underground. If I go, there's a chance that he might talk to me."

"He'll also know that the NSA is in Egypt." Lou countered.

"If any other agent goes, they'll shoot him on sight, regardless of the intelligence he could provide."

"Warner won't go for it."

"And since when have you cared about what she thinks?"

"Ever since Jake went rogue over six years ago, putting all of us on know that we were lucky in keeping our jobs due to our connection with him. Most of the NSA never believed that Agent Foley was forced against his will the first time the nanites were hijacked by DuMont. Some even believe that he was faking the amnesia to get away with it. One wrong move in how we handle this situation with Jake and we both will be sent so far down, any trace of us will wiped away to leave no proof that we once existed." Lou warned. She went behind her desk, balancing her weight on her hands as she leaned on it, glaring at the polished table top. "I know how much you want to bring Jake back. I do too but the fact is that we both have a job to do, an oath to fulfill. Whatever the reason Jake left, it comes down to the fact that he went rogue and with the nanites in him, it makes him a very dangerous opponent."

"The exact same concerns that I have myself, Director Beckett." The two NSA agents turned around to see Executive Director Valerie Warner enter Lou's office unannounced, Deputy Director James Skerrit right behind her; both wearing neutral expressions. "I just received word that our computer systems picked up on Foley's presence within the NSA database."

Lou straightened herself, staring at the slightly older woman. "Our preliminary analysis of the hack tells us that Foley didn't open any classified files but rather, he uploaded something to them while bringing our attention to it."

"Is it a virus?" Skerrit asked, looking over the bullpen through the thick, clear glass out to the busy bullpen. "He could be trying to shut our systems down."

"Foley could have done it without bringing our attention to it." Kyle said forcefully, a little of his emotion slipping through. Warner gave him a sharp look, eyeing him carefully. "He was providing intelligence on something he thinks is important."

"It was in a Middle Easter language so we couldn't confirm what it was exactly but it has been shipped off to our language department to see what the files contain. There were also a number of pictures and are being processed as we speak." Lou informed her superiors.

Warner waved her hand, dismissing the information. "What of Foley himself?"

"Agent Carver could only trace him as far as Cairo. She believes that he is around that city as he was continually bouncing her around various IP addresses in the area."

"How do we know he is not in Washington and is bouncing the signal halfway across the world?" Skerrit asked suspiciously. "He has already done that before."

"He only bounced it within his apartment building and at the same time, he also helped to bring down a meth operation." Kyle reminded them. "If this is a credible threat to the US, Foley would not risk sending our agents to another place when we could use them in tracking down whoever was in those photos."

"All of this is heresy. We only have to go on what you think those files are which are from a rogue NSA agent." Warner looked at Lou dead on. "I trust that whatever your judgments are, you will perform in accordance with your position. Foley is a threat to our nation, a rogue element out there with the capability of shutting down all of our national defenses. If he is located, he must be brought in at all costs. Is that understood?"

"Crystal." Lou clearly answered.

"Beckett. Duarte." Warner allowed herself to look over the two agents in the room before leaving.

Skerrit made to follow her but faltered for a second. "Lou, be careful. I'm afraid that Valerie has become obsessed with Foley. She is willing to do anything to bring him in."

"Understood, Jim." Skerrit gave her a small nod before leaving them as well, shoulders slightly slumped.

Kyle crossed his arms, taking a few steps closer to Lou. "I did not like what he just said."

Lou's dark eyes followed the retreating figure of the Executive Director of the NSA. "And neither do I, Kyle. Keep an eye on the analysis of the Intel. I don't want any piece suddenly going missing."

"I'll have our people copy it onto disks and hidden." Kyle headed for the door as well, stopping at the edge. "Jake really did open a can of worms, didn't he?"

Lou allowed a small smile curve her lips. "Just as he always does." Kyle answered her smile with a small one of his own as he left for the language department.

* * *

><p>~ <em>11:28 pm, July 31, 2011: Cairo, Egypt<em> ~

Jake wanted to scream in frustration as he glared at the empty room of the former terrorist base. Within one day and one night, the terrorist cell had upped and moved, the lower floors turning into a new store. He had broken into the lower floor the moment he had seen the new shelves stocked with new items. Feeling his gut clench in growing horror, Jake made his way up the rickety staircase on the west side of the building to the upper levels. Everything was cleaned out, from the drawers to the tables and bookshelves. New linens had been placed on the beds, the air reeking of cleanliness and damp water.

Pounding a fist on one of the door jambs on the fourth floor, Jake looked over the darkened hall.

If he was going to find more about the attack on US soil, he would have to find remnants of the terrorist cell before the NSA sent an agent to look for him.

But exactly how? Cairo was a bustling center, with tourists and nationals coming and going by the hour. He only had a few contacts within the city and his language speaking skills was basic. On top of that, he couldn't exactly go up to them and ask if they knew where a possible terrorist cell could be located.

Jake slipped out of the building and as he headed back to the workers' camp, he pondered over his situation. At the very least, he had about 12 hours to find the cell again and come up with a way to lead whoever the NSA sent to 'stumble' upon them. Not really enough time to find the cell again. He should have installed a tracking program into the laptop.

_No time for second guessing. What's done is done._ Jake thought to himself. It was natural for him not to leave any traces of his presence anywhere.

As he made his way down the stairs to slip back out in the street, a thought wormed its way into his mind. . . .

* * *

><p>~ <em>8:23 am, August 1, 2011: National Security Agency, Fort Meade, Maryland, USA<em> ~

It was early in the morning at the NSA as Lou's office was the host for the briefing on the analysis on the documents Foley had downloaded. Kyle was standing behind and to the left of Lou, arms crossed over his chest as he tried not to glare at the tech agent that was standing nervously at the center of attention. Warner was standing stiffly in front of Lou, her emotionless eyes also on the tech.

"Agent Williamson, you can begin your presentation now." Lou ordered softly, knowing that the new tech agent was slightly intimidated by the fact that he was giving a briefing to his boss and her second in command as well as the NSA Executive Director.

"Director Beckett, w-we have finished our pre-preliminary analysis on the intelligence we received from Age- um, from Foley." The techie stammered, trying to keep his eyes from drifting to Warner's disapproving gaze.

"What are your findings?" Warner demanded harshly, letting her gaze bore into the unfortunate man who had been picked to deliver the news. Lou made a note to herself to speak to Agent Jones about choosing a rookie into giving such an important debriefing.

"U-um, our first guesses were r-right. The intelligence has a rather alarming list of weapons that a small attack force could hide and use. T-There are a few names that have p-popped up on our search of known terrorist followers." The agent shuffled papers around, trying to keep his information in order under the continuing scrutiny from the Executive Director. Duarte noticed the look of increasing disgust on Warner's face the longer the agent took to get his thoughts into order. "At the end, we found a transcript in English. It seems to be a transcript of a conversation that F-Foley, um, must have overheard as there isn't any hard evidence backing up the claims we noted."

"Which most notably are?" Lou asked, trying to keep the sudden urge to tap her fingers in check.

"He thinks that there is an active terrorist cell operating here in the US that has plans to set off a series of attacks on the anniversary of September 11th. The weapons list we have has no direct sign that the country will be attacked, mostly due to the lack of locations of where they are being shipped." The agent passed around copies of the transcript. "On file, Foley has no knowledge of any Middle Eastern language or any language for that matter except for a level one knowledge of Spanish and even then, he barely scraped a pass."

Warner threw the folder onto the table top, not even bothering to open the folder, staring at Lou. "Frankly, I am not sure Foley can be trusted. He can be creating this imaginary cell to get back into our good graces and at this point, I'm not willing to accommodate him."

Kyle challenged her, taking a step forward. "But what if this is true? As the NSA, we cannot simply ignore this, regardless of its source. We should at the very least give him the benefit of the doubt and look into this."

"We have a number of agents out in the Middle East at the moment. We can have them travel to Egypt to look for these men." Lou motioned toward the pictures. "They are on our terrorist database so we know already that there are links to terrorist groups. We just have to determine if the threat is credible to our nation." Lou opened her mouth to issue orders to Kyle but Warner interrupted.

"No, we will send the intelligence to the CIA for further development. We need to focus on locating and terminating Foley and removing him as a national threat once and for all."

Lou braced herself on her desk, glaring at the Executive Director. "This terrorist group is a greater national threat than Foley. We should be sending all of our available resources in locating them."

Warner ignored a glaring Lou, addressing Kyle. "Agent Duarte, since you are no longer sanctioned for field missions outside the United States, you will be the one to drop off the information with the operative the CIA will send to pick it up. I expect this Intel to be in their hands by tonight. As for the Foley objective, I will be expecting results in terminating him."

Without a single word, Warner left the group standing there. As she made her way to her office, she allowed herself to think on the possible actions that provided the best way to eliminate the threat to her life's work and America. She knew that despite what Director Beckett and Agent Duarte claimed, they could not separate themselves from what needed to be done. No, she needed someone she could count on, someone with a grudge against Foley and who would be willing to do anything to bring him in. It helped that her machinations had helped his anger to increase to the point love had turned into pure hate. As it stood, he was almost done with his agent training.

Maybe it was time to bring him into the field for a test run.

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><p>~ <em>9:11 am, August 1st, 2011: George H.W. Bush Center for Central Intelligence, Langley, Virginia, USA <em>~

Joan walked through the hall of the DPD, eyes running over the file in her hand. The South African mission with Agent Howard seemed to be slowly resolving itself now that the senior agent had another senior agent to back him up in going undercover. As she neared her office, Joan could see her secretary walking toward her out of the periphery of her vision. She closed her fist, the folder shutting itself with a light fluttery thump as the DPD director turned to meet the approaching woman. "Elena, what do you have for me?"

"It seems that the NSA has contacted us about a possible Intel drop up in D.C. They claim the information they have may lead to a possible terrorist cell operating within our soil and are planning a number of attacks soon." Elena handed Joan the folder she was carrying. Inside were only a few pages. Joan frowned. If it was as high a threat as she thought it was, she would have believed the NSA would have done more to dig up on the claim of a terrorist cell.

"Do we have an operative in D.C?" The two women entered Joan's office. Joan's eyebrow rose as she skimmed the report.

"Yes, two but at the moment are currently unavailable. We do have an operative in the D.C. area. It's Walker. She went with her family to see the sights as a family."

"Walker. Well, that's great." Joan said to herself, amused. "See if the cover operations division has set up a protocol for us to follow. If they can, see if they can just have Annie pick it up without any complicated maneuvers. I'll see if I can get Auggie back here. We'll need our best operatives on this." Elena nodded before walking off.

Sighing, Joan sat down at her desk, her eyes focused on the black letters against the pristine white pages. If this was true, then there wasn't any time to waste, not even to call in Annie back to Langley. She would have to be briefed on the fly. If Auggie wasn't here in due time, Joan would have no choice but to hand it to Stu as he was the next best tech operative after Auggie. She only hoped that Auggie hadn't started on his yearly ritual just yet. Out of the entire DPD, she was the only one who knew the importance of today's date with the DPD. When Joan had given Auggie today off as well as tomorrow, she had hoped that maybe Annie would hang out with Auggie so the tech agent could have a regular today but obviously fate had other plans with the new field operative.

Grabbing her phone, Joan quickly dialed Auggie's encrypted phone from memory. Laying her hand against the top of her desk, Joan whispered in her mind for Auggie to pick up. On the seventh ring, the former operative answered the phone.

"Joan, I wasn't expecting you to call today." Auggie's voice came through the speaker, partially amused and partially clipped. "I'm guessing something came up at work."

"Your guess would be correct, Auggie. Due to the nature of the report I received, I need you back here within the hour if at all possible and I'm afraid I can't postpone this mission until you arrive." From the background, she could hear Auggie moving around his apartment, presumably getting ready. "Will you be able to handle this today?"

"Don't worry, Joan. I can handle this."

"Good. I'll see you when you arrive." Joan stated firmly.

"Sure." Joan hung up the phone, staring the device. Though she had been a director for some time now and separated from the field by numerous walls and distance, her rusty sixth-sense had begun to tingle during the conversation. Something was going to happen soon but what, she had no idea except that it was going to be centered around the blind tech agent.

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><p>~ <em>9:29 am, August 1st, 2011: McLean, Virginia, USA<em> ~

Auggie hung up the phone, placing it back into its cradle, his finger on the other hand pressing the send button on the text message he had been writing to the car service company the CIA had picked for him. When they had been tapped to be the company overseeing his transportation needs, they had agreed to the CIA's demands that an available car would always be on hand 24/7, just in case of emergencies as the one right now. As he began cleaning himself up, Auggie heard the text arrive from the company dispatcher, confirming that a driver would be at his location within the next ten minutes.

Just enough time to make himself presentable. Auggie headed into his bedroom to quickly change from the black pajamas bottoms and grey t-shirt he was wearing.

If Joan had been any later in her call, Auggie would not have been at full capacity as he would have then been under the influence of alcohol. In fact, the newly opened bottle of the Patron Silver with a filled crystal tumbler sat on the countertop in the kitchen. Part of the delinquent inside of him wanted to drink it so the alcohol wouldn't be wasted but he knew that was a no.

It wasn't every day that Auggie allowed himself to indulge in such large amounts, some of it due to the fact that he needed to be on hand when the CIA called for him but mostly for the fact that being incapacitated wasn't in his person, especially for an individual in his position. He didn't like the potential for loss of time, blackouts, and unreasonable thinking that accompanied drinking. He was lucky that he had such a high tolerance for it as it took him an unnaturally large amount of it to bring him under the table.

But for right now, Auggie wouldn't allow himself to dwell on the annual pity party that he was going to go on before Joan had called. Whatever mission they needed him for would require his entire focus and knowledge since it wasn't every day they personally called him into the office when he had just been told to go on a minivacation the day before. Tugging the tie around his neck quickly, Auggie capped the tequila bottle and placed it back in the liquor cabinet. He poured the alcohol down the drain, swiftly cleaning the tumbler and placing it on the rack to dry.

He had been trained to not let personal feelings get in the way of the mission success and even had it drilled into him when the situation with Natasha had blown up in his face. Though he wasn't a field operative any longer now, he wouldn't let his short childhood rear its ugly head, especially at Company headquarters. Those moments of self-pity and depression had almost ruined him before he was able to leave that hellhole of a house.

Grabbing his wallet, keys, and badge from where they sat on the table next to the door, Auggie slid his head through the strap of his messenger bag as he left his apartment, ready for whatever was about to come.

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><p><strong>Chapter Notes:<strong> The time difference between Egypt and the Eastern Seaboard of the US is approximately 6 hours. So, if it's 6pm in Egypt, it's 12:00pm the same day in Washington D.C. At least by the World Clock I found.

**Spyridon: So now the chess pieces are beginning to appear on the board and some are already starting to move. I guess we'll find out who are the queens and who are the pawns. Reviews are greatly appreciated! I will never hold a story hostage however.**


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